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PATRIOTIC POEMS. 



PATRIOTIC POEMS. 



y 

FRANCIS DE HAES JANVIER, 

AUTHOR OF "THE SKELETON MONK," " TUE VOYAGE OF LIFE," "THE PALACE OF THE 
CJESARS." AND OTIII.K POEMS. 




PHILADELPHIA: 

J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO 

1 8 0. 



PS 1\-x<\ 



Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1866, by 

J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO., 

in the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States for the Eastern 

District of Pennsylvania. 



STEREOTYPED BY L. JOHNSON & CO. 
PHILADELPHIA. 



3x^i 




DEDICATED 



MEMORY 



ABRAHAM LINCOLN. 



CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

The Sleeping Sentinel 13 

The Cumberland 24 

Ellet 27 

Gettysburg 35 

The Union 42 

The Southern Confederacy 46 

God Save our President . 49 

Glendinning 51 

The Stars and Stripes 53 

The Stigma 59 

Our Heroes 66 

Rams 69 

The Widow's Son 77 

Laus Deo 87 



" The quality of mercy is not strain* d; 

It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven, 
Upon the place beneath : it is twice bless' d ; 
It blesseth hirru that gives, and him, that takes . 
'Tis mightiest in the mightiest ; it becomes 
The throned monarch better than his crown: 
His sceptre shows the force of temporal power, 
The attribute to awe and majesty, 
Wherein doth sit the d.read and fear of kings; 
l^ut mercy is above this sceptred, sway, 
It is enthroned in the hearts of kings, 
It is an attribute to Crod himself ; 
Jlnd earthly power doth then shozv likes t God's 
When mercy seasons justice." 



IHA.ESPEARE. 



11 



TIIK SLEEP] N<i SENTINEL. 



THE SLEEPING SENTINEL. 



'Twas in the sultry summer-time, as War's red 

records show, 
When patriot armies rose to meet a fratricidal 

foe — 
When, from the North, and East, and West, like 

the upheaving sea, 
Swept forth Columbia's sons, to make our country 

truly free. 

Within a prison's dismal walls, where shadows 

veiled decay — 
In fetters, on a heap of straw, a youthful soldier 



14 THE SLEEPING SENTINEL. 

Heart-broken, hopeless, and forlorn, with short and 

feverish breath, 
He waited but the appointed hour to die a culprit's 

death. 

Yet, but a few brief weeks before, untroubled with 

a care, 
He roamed at will, and freely drew his native 

mountain air — 
Where sparkling streams leap mossy rocks, from 

many a woodland font, 
And waving elms, and grassy slopes, give beauty 

to Vermont ! 

Where, dwelling in an humble cot, a tiller of the 

soil, 
Encircled by a mother's love, he shared a father's 

toil- 
Till, borne upon the wailing winds, his suffering 

country's cry 
Fired his young heart with fervent zeal, for her to 

live or die. 



THE SLEEPING SENTINEL. L5 

Then left lie all: — a few fond tears, by firmness 

half concealed, 
A blessing, and a parting prayer, and he was in 

the field— 
The field of strife, whose dews are blood, whose 

breezes War's hot breath, 
Whose fruits arc garnered in the grave, whose 

husbandman is Death ! 

Without a murmur, he endured a service new and 

hard; 
But, wearied with a toilsome march, it chanced one 

night, on guard, 
He sank, exhausted, at his post, and the gray 

morning found 
His prostrate form — a sentinel, asleep, upon the 

ground ! 

So, in the silence of the night, aweary, on the 

sod, 
Sank the disciples, watching near the suffering Son 

of God;— 



16 THE SLEEPING SENTINEL. 

Yet, Jesus, with compassion moved, beheld their 

heavy eyes, 
And, though betrayed to ruthless foes, forgiving, 

bade them rise ! 

But God is love, — and finite minds can faintly 

comprehend 
How gentle Mercy, in His rule, may with stern 

Justice blend ; 
And this poor soldier, seized and bound, found 

none to justify, 
While War's inexorable law decreed that he must 

die. 



'Twas night. — In a secluded room, with measured 

tread, and slow, 
A statesman of commanding mien, paced gravely 

to and fro. 



THE SLEEPING SENTINEL. 17 

Oppressed, he pondered on a land by civil discord 

rent ; 
On brothers armed in deadly strife: — it was the 

President ! 

The woes of "thirty millions filled his burdened 
heart with grief; 

Embattled hosts, on land and sea, acknowledged him 
their chief; 

And yet, amid the din of war, he heard the plaint- 
ive cry 

Of that poor soldier, as he lay in prison, doomed 
to die ! 



'Twas morning. — On a tented field, and through 

the heated haze, 
Flashed back, from lines of burnished arms, the 



sun's effulgent blaze ; 

2* 



18 THE SLEEPING SENTINEL. 

While, from a sombre prison-house, seen slowly to 

emerge, 
A sad procession, o'er the sward, moved to a muffled 

dirge. 

And in the midst, with faltering step, and pale and 

anxious face, 
In manacles, between two guards, a soldier had his 

place. 
A youth — ?ed out to die; — and yet, it was not death, 

buli shame, 
That smote his gallant heart with dread, and shook 

his manly frame! 

Still on, before the marshalled ranks, the train 

pursued its way 
Up to the designated spot, whereon a coffin 

lay — 
His coffin ! Ar-d, with reeling brain, despairing — 

desolate — 
He took his station by its side, abandoned to his 

fate! 



THE SLEEPING SENTINEL. 19 

Then came across his wavering sight strange 

pictures in the air : — 
He saw his distant mountain home; he saw his 

parents there; 
He saw them bowed with hopeless grief, through 

fast-decliumg years; 
He saw a nameless grave; and then, the vision 

closed — in tears ! 

Yet, once again. In double file, advancing, then, 
he saw 

Twelve comrades, sternly set apart to execute the 
law — 

But saw no more : — his senses swam — deep dark- 
ness settled round — 

And, shuddering, he awaited now the fatal volley's 
sound ! 

Then suddenly was heard the noise of steeds and 

wheels approach, — 
And, rolling through a cloud of dust, appeared a 

stately coach. 



20 THE SLEEPING SENTINEL. 

On, past the guards, and through the field, its 

rapid course was bent, 
Till, halting, 'mid the lines was seen the nation's 

President ! 

He came to save that stricken soul, now waking 

from despair ; 
And from a thousand voices rose a shout which 

rent the air ! 
The pardoned soldier understood the tones of 

jubilee, 
x\nd, bounding from his fetters, blessed the hand 

that made him free ! 



'Twas Spring. — Within a verdant vale, where 

Warwick's crystal tide 
Reflected, o'er its peaceful breast, fair fields on 

either side — 



THE SLEEPING SENTINEL. 21 

Where birds and flowers combined to cheer a 

sylvan solitude — 
Two threatening armies, face to face, in fierce 

defiance stood ! 

Two threatening armies ! One invoked by injured 
Liberty — 

Which bore above its patriot ranks the Symbol of 
the Free ; 

And one, a rebel horde, beneath a flaunting flag 
of bars, 

A fragment, torn by traitorous hands, from Free- 
dom's Stripes and Stars ! 

A sudden shock which shook the earth, 'mid vapor 

dense and dun, 
Proclaimed, along the echoing hills, the conflict had 

begun ; 
While shot and shell, athwart the stream with 

fiendish fury sped, 
To strew among the living lines, the dying and the 

dead! 



22 THE SLEEPING SENTINEL. 

Then, louder than the roaring storm, pealed forth 

the stern command, 
" Charge ! Forward, charge !" and, at the word, with 

shouts, a fearless band, 
Two hundred heroes from Vermont, rushed onward, 

through the flood, 
And upward, o'er the r:'sing ground, they marked 

their way in blood ! 

The smitten foe before them fled, in terror, from 
his cost — 

While, unsustained, two hundred stood, to battle 
wi th. a host ! 

Then, turning, as the raPying ranks, with murder- 
ous jire ; ,*eolled, 

They bore the faHen o'er the field, and through the 
paiole tide ! 

The fallen ! And the first who fell in that unequal 

strife, 
Was he whom Mercy sped to save when Justice 

claimed his life — 



THE SLEEPING SENTINEL. 23 

The pardoned soldier! And, while yet the conflict 

raged around — 
While yet his life-blood ebbed away through every 

gaping wound — 

While yet his voice grew tremulous, and death 

bedimmed his eye — 
He called his comrades to attest, he had not feared 

to die! 
And, in his last expiring breath, a prayer to heaven 

was sent — 
That God, with His unfailing grace, would bless 

our President ! 



THE CUMBERLAND. 



A shout of defiance 

From Freedom's brave sons ! 
It blends with the thunder 

Of volleying guns ! 
It comes from the ocean, 

Whose shuddering flood, 
Through sulphurous vapor, 

Eolls purple with blood ! 
Defiance to Treason, 

In Battle's stern breath — 
The Cumberland war-cry, 

Defiance till death ! 



24 



THE CUMBERLAND. 25 

The strife was unequal; — 

Material gave 
The stronger a triumph, 

The weaker a grave ! 
Against a mailed monster 

The Cumberland stood; — 
But steam baffled canvas, 

And iron crushed wood ! 
She sank, while yet echoed 

Her valorous breath — 
The Cumberland war-cry, 

Defiance till death ! 

The conflict is ended; — 

Above the blue surge, 
The wild winds are wailing 

The Cumberland's dirge. — 
Her flag, never lowered, 

Still proudly shall show, 
The spot where her heroes 

Are resting, below : — 



26 THE CUMBERLAND. 

And Freedom will cherish 
To Time's latest breath, 

The Cumberland war-cry ; 
Defiance till death ! 



ELLET. 



Colonel Charles Ellet, Junior, commander of the Steam- 
Ram Fleet, was mortally wounded at the capture of Memphis, 
Tennessee, June" 6th, 1862, and died at Cairo, Illinois, June 21st, 
1862 



A hero has fallen ! 

Full many a tear 
Is bathing the banner 

Which droops o'er his bier; — 
And Freedom and Science, 

In sorrow, combine 
A chaplet of laurel 

And cypress to twine. 

27 



28 ELLET. 



A hero has fallen ! 

So falls the proud oak, 
When cleaves, through the tempest, 

The lightning's red stroke ; — 
While, in the same ruin, 

Is borne to the ground 
The vine, which its branches 

Had lovingly wound. 

A hero has fallen ! 

We yield him to Grod — 
Eeceiving, in meekness, 

His chastening rod. 
Though darkness divide us, 

His throne is above — 
The God of the orphan, 

Whose title is Love ! 



GETTYSBURG. 



DEDICATED 

TO 

Pajor- Central 

GEORGE GORDON MEADE, 

UNITED STATES ARMY. 



i 



" The unity of G-overnm,ent , which constitutes you 
one people, is dear to you. It is justly so ; for it is 
a main pillar in the edifice of your real independence, 
the support of your tranquillity at home, your peace 
abroad; of your safety ; of your prosperity ; of that 
very Liberty , which you so highly prize, gut as it is 
easy to foresee, that, from different causes and, from 
different quarters, much pains will be taken, many 
artifices employed, to weaken in your minds the con~ 
viction of this truth; as this is the point in your 
political foi^tress against which the batteries of inter- 
nal and external enemies will be most constantly and 
actively (though often covertly and insidiously*) di- 
rected, it is of infinite moment, that yoxo should pro- 
perly estimate the immense value of your national 

Union to your collective and individual happiness; 

33 



that you should cherish a cordial, habitual, and im- 
movable atta.ohrn.ent to it ; accustoming yourselves to 
think and speak of it 0.2 of the (Palladium of 1 our 
political safety and prosperity ; watching- for its pre- 
servation u>ith jealous anxiety; i tenancing 
whatever may suggest even a suspicion, that it ca.n in 
any event be abandoned ; and, indignantly frowning 

the first dawning of every attempt to alii 
a,ny portion of our country from the rest, cr r: enfeeble 
the sacred ties which now link together the variour. 
parts. 11 

GEORGE W^SHIfT&TOJT. 



GETTYSBURG. 



Two hostile hosts are gathered here;- 

Two armies rest around : 
And yet, no picket guard is near, 
No pacing sentinels appear 

To watch the camping ground ! 

No rattling drum, no screaming fife, 
No braying trumpets' breath, 

Gives token of impending strife; 

There comes no sound of martial life;- 
It is the Camp of Death ! 



GETTYSBURG. 

The camp of Death ! — The warrior's pride, 

The sword, and sash, and plume, 
Are here forever laid aside; — ■ 
Distinction banished; rank denied; 
And every tent, a tomb ! 

Peace breathes a requiem o'er the past, 

When, down this tranquil vale, 
In smoke and flame, swept war's wild blast; 
While thundering guns pealed fierce and fast, 

Through storms of iron hail. 

The battle broke o'er field and grove, 

Like a resistless flood ; 
And on, through living ramparts, clove, 
Where Life and Death for mastery strove, 

In agony and blood ! 

The serried squadrons charged and fell 
Before devouring fire — 



GETTYSBURG. 37 

And hissing shot, and blazing shell, 
Sent like some blasting bolt from hell, 
Heaped one vast funeral pyre ! 

And Slaughter strewed the purple plain 

With torture and dismay; — 
'Till strength seemed weak, and valor vain ; 
And grim and gasping, 'mid the slain, 

Full many a hero lay. 

Then rose, with Victory's joyous tones, 

The wailings of Despair; — 
And mangled flesh, and shattered bones, 
And oaths, and curses, shrieks, and groans, 

Commingled wildly there ! 

And who were those that, hand to hand, 

Thus closed in deadly strife? 
Met patriots here a savage band, 
Who swarmed from some far, barbarous land, 

To strike at Freedom's life? 



38 GETTYSBURG. 

No ! — let the infernal vaults below, 

Resound with fiendish glee; — 
A brother was each patriot's foe : 
Fraternal hands struck every blow 
At bleeding Liberty ! 

Degenerate sons of sires whose names 

Undying Fame shall own ; — 
Who, in the Revolution's flames, 
From fusing fetters, forged the frames 

Of Freedom's lofty throne ! 

Degenerate sons, who, scorned and banned, 

Eternal shame shall know; — 
Who, recreant to their native land, 
Lured by Ambition, madly planned 
Their country's overthrow. 

And here, upon this bloody ground,— 

To Freedom consecrate, — 
The traitorous host, advancing, found, 



GETTYSBURG. 39 

As marked henceforth, in many a mound, 
The traitor's righteous fate ! 

So, when at first, in Heaven above, 

Foul perfidy was known ; — 
When vile Ambition tainted love, 
And impious Treason rashly strove 

Against the Eternal Throne : — 

Before Omnipotence, dispersed, 

The rebel armies fell; 
Their dazzling dreams of power reversed ; 
Dismayed, defeated, crushed, and cursed, 

And headlong hurled to hell ! 

So perish all our country's foes ! — 

So, ever, frustrate be 
The desperate designs of those 
Who, in our destiny, oppose 

Grod and Humanity ! 



40 GETTYSBURG. 

Two hostile hosts are gathered here ; 

Yet, but one banner waves; — 
Its starry folds, now doubly dear, 
Unfurled by Victory, appear 

Above ten thousand graves ! 

Two hostile hosts — but nevermore 

To meet in mortal strife; 
Defiance and defeat, are o'er, — 
Nor love, nor hate, can now restore 

One prostrate form to life ! 

Ten thousand graves ! — so, far and wide, 

Before War's withering breath, 
Fall friends and foes, on every side : — 
So rolls, through ruin, glory's tide, 
Down to the wastes of Death ! 

Yet here, where many a patriot fought, 
And many a martyr bled ; 



GETTYSBURG. 41 

Shall memory dwell — and painful thought 
Will often turn, with pity fraught, 
To treason's nameless dead. 

But every patriot's dust will claim 

Affection's tenderest tears; — 
And, blazoned on the scroll of Fame, 
Shall shine each martyred soldier's name, 

Through Time's remotest years ! 

And still, upon this sacred sod, 

The children of the Free, 
Who follow where our fathers trod, 
Shall learn to trust our fathers' God : — 

The God of Liberty! 



THE UNION, 



A NATIONAL SONG. 



Liberty and Union, now and forever, one and inseparable!' 

Webster. 



The Union ! The Union ! 

The hope of the free ! 
Howsoe'er we may differ, 

In this we agree: — 
Our glorious banner 

No traitor shall mar, 
By effacing a stripe, 

Or destroying a star ! 
Division ! No, never ! 
The Union forever ! 

And cursed be the hand 
That our country would sever ! 

42 



THE UNION. 43 

The Union ! The Union ! 

'Twas purchased with blood ! 
Side by side, to secure it, 

Our forefathers stood: — 
From the North to the South, 

Through the length of the land, 
Ban the war-cry which summoned 

That patriot band ! 
Division ! No, never ! 
The Union forever ! 

And cursed be the hand 
That our country would sever ! 

The Union ! The Union ! 

At Lexington first, 
Through the clouds of oppression, 

Its radiance burst ; — 
But at Yorktown rolled back 

The last vapory crest, 
And, a bright constellation, 

It blazed in the West ! 



44 THE UNION. 

Division ! No, never ! 
The Union forever ! 

And cursed be the hand 
That our country would sever ! 

The Union ! The Union ! 

Its heavenly light 
Cheers the hearts of the nations 

Who grope in the night , — 
And, athwart the wide ocean, 

Falls, gilding the tides, 
A path to the country 

Where Freedom abides ! 
Division ! No, never ! 
The Union forever ! 

And cursed be the hand 
That our country would sever ! 

The Union ! The Union ! 

In God we repose ! 
We confide in the power 

That vanquished our foes ! 



THE UNION. 45 



The God of our fathers, — 
Oh, still may He be 

The strength of the Union, 
The hope of the free ! 

Division ! No, never ! 

The Union forever ! 

And cursed be the hand 

That our country would sever ! 



THE SOUTHERN CONFEDERACY. 

"Say ye not a confederacy." — Isaiah viii. 12. 



Among the various things which grow 
In the miasmatic swamps below, 
A rank and poisonous Ever-green, 
Called the Sea-Cedar ; may be seen ! 

Now, it seems, some sapient souls of late, 
Who thought they could build a Ship of State, 
Of this material tried to form 
A craft to defy a Northern storm ! 



But a Northern storm, though sometimes slow, 
When it once wakes up, and begins to blow, 

46 



THE SOUTHERN CONFEDERACY. 47 

As it shakes the earth, and sweeps the seas, 
Is very unlike a Southern breeze ! 

And thus, when this Southern ship had made 
But a few brief miles on a Northern raid, 
There rose to meet her so fierce a gale 
That she deemed it prudent to shorten sail ! 

But 'twas rather late when the caution came — 
The billows were dark, and the clouds a-flame; 
A hurricane blew in every breath, 
And standing athwart her path was Death ! 

So, shattered and tost by the tempest's force, 
And drifting aside from her vaunted course, 
With a desperate Lee-way, she tried to tack, 
And make her escape by turning back ! 

But a ship must travel extremely fast 
If she hopes to outstrip a Northern blast — 
And she was exceedingly glad to reach, 
In a ruinous state, a Southern beach ! 



48 THE SOUTHERN CONFEDERACY. 

In a ruinous State ! And there, I ween, 
For many a day, will the wreck be seen — 
And the tale be told, how that Southern ship 
Succeeded in making a Northern trip ! 



GOD SAVE OUR PRESIDENT! 

A NATIONAL SONG. 



All hail ! Unfurl the stripes and stars ! 

The banner of the free ! 
Ten times ten thousand patriots greet 

The shrine of Liberty ! 
Come, with one heart, one hope, one aim, 

An undivided band, 
To elevate, with solemn rites, 

The ruler of our land ! 

Not to invest a potentate 

With robes of majesty,— 
Not to confer a kingly crown, 

Nor bend a subject knee. . 

5 41) 



50 GOD SAVE OUR PRESIDENT. 

We bow beneath no sceptred sway, 
Obey no royal nod : — 

Columbia's sons, erect and free, 
Kneel only to their God ! 

Our ruler boasts no titled rank, 

JSTo ancient, princely line, — 
ISTo regal right to sovereignty, 

Ancestral and divine. 
A patriot, — at his country's call, 

Responding to her voice ; 
One of the people, — he becomes 

A sovereign by our choice ! 

And now, before the mighty pile 

We've reared to Liberty, 
He swears to cherish and defend 

The charter of the free ! 
God of our country ! Seal his oath 

With thy supreme assent. 
God save the Union of the States ! 

God save our President ! 



GLENDINNING. 



A Tribute to the memory or Captain James Glendinning, 
who fell at Chattanooga, October 28th, 1863. 



Anothee precious offering, 

In self-devotion made; 
Another bleeding sacrifice 

On Freedom's altar laid ; 
Another warrior at rest, 

Where conflict is unknown; 
Another martyr 'mid the host 

Before the Eternal Throne. 

Could we have pierced the sulphurous pall 
Above that bloody fight, — 

51 



52 GLENDINNING. 

Could we have gained the view which met 
That dying soldier's sight, — 

We should have seen an angel-band, 
Poised in the upper air; 

"We should have seen a glittering crown 
And palm of victory there. 

By nature ardent, kind and true, 

By faith to heaven allied, 
A Christian patriot he lived, 

A Christian hero died. 
And in the record of the brave, 

Which Freedom gives to Fame, 
Beloved, through all succeeding time, 

Shall be Glendinning's name. 



THE STARS AND STRIPES. 



The Stars and Stripes! What hand shall dare 
To desecrate the flag we bear ! 
The flag of stars, whose cheering light 
Beamed through oppression's gloomy night ! 
The flag of stripes, whose heavenly dyes 
Flashed Freedom's day-spring through the skies ! 
Our flag! The standard of the free! 
Symbol of hope and liberty ! 

The Stars and Stripes ! What memories rise, 
Whene'er that banner greets our eyes ! 
By patriots borne, o'er land and sea, 
It led the way to victory ! 

53 



54 THE STARS AND STRIPES. 

When slaughter swept the surging main — 
When carnage strewed the crimson plain — 
It marked the spot where heroes stood, 
It was baptized in heroes' blood ! 

The Stars and Stripes ! What power shall stay 
Immortal Freedom's onward way ! 
The heavens are the triumphal arch 
Through which she takes her mighty march ! 
Her mighty march ! Nor shall she halt 
Till, like the spangled azure vault, 
Her glittering ensign floats, unfurled, 
Kound an emancipated world! 



THE STIGMA. 



It is related that, some thirty years ago, John C. 
Calhoun, a Senator of the United States, from the 
State of South Carolina, and at that time employed 
in perfecting- the g-reat Jfullification scheme of which 
he was the author, was, one night, at a late hour, 
seated in his room, alone, and engaged in writing, 
when, falling asleep, he had a dream, the incidents 
of which are here woven into verse. 

57 



THE STIGMA. 



Between the acting of a dreadful thing 
And the first motion, all the interim is 
Like a phantasma, or a hideous dream." 

Shakspeake. 



In a chamber grand and gloomy, in the shadow of 
the night, 

Two wax tapers flaming faintly, burned with a se- 
pulchral light, — 

On an oval oaken table, from their silver stands 
they shone, 

Where, about them, in disorder, books and manu- 
scripts were strown ; 

Where, before them, sat a statesman, silent, 
thoughtful, and alone ! 



59 



60 THE STIGMA. 

Suddenly, a stranger entered — entered with a se- 
rious air, 

And, with steady step advancing, near the table 
drew a chair ! 

Folded in an ample mantle, carefully concealed 

from sight, 

There he sat, and his companion watched him, 
i 
through the wavering light, 

Wondering at his bold intrusion, unannounced, and 

in the night ! 

Wondering at his staid demeanor, wondering that 
no word he spoke, 

Wondering that he veiled his visage in the volume 
of his cloak — 

Till, as though unwilling, longer, satisfaction to 
postpone, 

"Senator from Carolina" — said he, in a solemn 
tone — ■ 

" What are you engaged in writing, here, at mid- 
night, and alone?" 



THE STIGMA. 61 

Then, the statesman answered promptly, a 'Tis a 

plan which consummates, 
When complete, the dissolution of the Union of the 

States." 
Whereupon, rejoined the stranger, in an accent of 

command, 
" Senator from Carolina, let me look at your right 

hand." 
And the statesman had no power that calm dictate 

to withstand ! 

Slowly, then, uprose the stranger, and the startled 

statesman saw, 
From the falling cloak emerging, one from whom 

he shrunk with awe ! 
Stern and stately, stood before him, Freedom's first 

and favorite son — 
He whose patriotic valor universal homage 

won — 
He who gave the world the Union— the immortal 

Washington ! 



62 THE STIGMA. 

And he thrilled with strange emotion, in the 

Patriot's steadfast gaze, 
As he held the hand he proffered, held it near the 

taper's blaze, — 
As he thoughtfully proceeded, — "Then you would, 

with this right hand, 
Senator from Carolina, desolate your native 

land, — 
You would sign a Declaration, this fair Union to 

disband?" 

And the Senator responded: "Yes, should chance 

such service claim, 
To an Act of Dissolution I would freely sign my 

name." 
But, the words were scarcely spoken, when, amazed, 

he saw expand, 
Dim at first, then deeper, darker, an unsightly, 

blackened brand, 
Like a loathsome, leprous plague-spot, on the back 

of his risdit hand ! 

o 



THE STIGMA. 63 

"What is that?" he cried, with horror, as the 

dreadful stigma spread — 
And, the Patriot's grasp relaxing, undisturbed, he 

gravely said: 
"That black blotch your hand o'erspreading, is the 

mark by which they know 
One who, honored by his country, basely sought its 

overthrow — 
That detested traitor, Arnold, — in the dismal world 

below!" 

Pausing then, he, from his mantle, drew an object 

toward the light, — 
Placed it on the oaken table, in the shuddering 

statesman's sight, — ■ 
Placed it on the very writing which that traitorous 

hand had done, — 
Still, and stark, and grim, and ghastly — 'twas a 

human skeleton ! 
There it lay — and then he added, calmly, as he had 

begun : 



64 THE STIGMA. 

" Here, behold the sacred relics of a man who, long 

ago, 
Died, at Charleston, on a gibbet, murdered by a 

ruthless foe, — 
Isaac Hayne, who fell a martyr, laying down his 

life with joy, 
To confirm this noble Union, which you wantonly 

employ 
Powers, for virtuous ends intended, treacherously 

to destroy. 

" When you sign a solemn compact, this blest bond 

to disunite, 
Lying here, upon your table, you should have his 

bones in sierht. 
He was born in Carolina, — so were you, — but, all 

in vain 
Will you look for Treason's stigma — will you seek 

the slightest stain 
On the hand of that pure patriot, the right hand 

of Isaac Hayne!" 



THE STIGMA. 65 

Saying this, the stranger vanished, but the skeleton 
remained, 

And the black and blasting stigma still that trai- 
torous hand retained ! 

Sinking in their silver sockets, fainter still the 
tapers gleamed; 

Suddenly, athwart the chamber, morning's rosy 
radiance streamed, 

And the statesman, wan and weary, wondering, 
woke — for he had dreamed ! 

He had dreamed — but, pause and ponder, you who 

would the Union rend — 
Ponder, at the bare beginning, on the foul and fatal 

end : — 
Ponder on dark desolation sweeping through this 

cherished land- 
Heavy hearts, forsaken firesides, waste and woe, 

wild War's demand — 
Ponder on the Traitor's Stigma — pause, and look 

at your right hand ! 



OUR HEROES. 



Cheeks ! Cheers, for our heroes ! 

Not those who wear stars ; 
Not those who wear eagles, 

And leaflets, and bars ; 
We know they are gallant, 

And honor them, too, 
For bravely maintaining 

The Red, White, and Blue! 

But, cheers for our soldiers, 
Rough, wrinkled, and brown; 

The men who make heroes, 
And ask no renown : — 



66 



OUR HEROES. 67 

Unselfish, untiring, 

Intrepid, and true; 
The bulwark surrounding 

The Bed, White, and Blue ! 

Our patriot soldiers ! 

When Treason arose, 
And Freedoms own children 

Assailed her as foes; 
When Anarchy threatened, 

And Order withdrew, 
They rallied to rescue 

The Bed, White, and Blue! 

Upholding our banner, 

On many a field, 
The doom of the traitor 

They valiantly sealed ; 
And, worn with the conflict, 

Found vigor anew, 
Where Victory greeted 

The Bed, White, and Blue I 



68 OUR HEROES. 

Yet, loved ones have fallen — 

And still, where they sleep, 
A sorrowing Nation 

Shall silently weep ; 
And Spring's fairest flowers, 

In gratitude, strew, 
O'er those who have cherished 

The Bed, White, and Blue! 

But, glory immortal 

Is waiting them now; 
And chaplets unfading 

Shall bind every brow, 
When, called by the trumpet, 

At Time's great review, 
They stand, who defended 

The Red, White, and Blue! 



RAMS. 



Who, indeed, would have thought 
that it ever could chance 

That dogmatical Eng- 
land, and complaisant France, 

Who have always known ev- 
erything under the sun ; 

Who have always thought first 
of whatever we've done ; 

Who have scarce deigned our Ea- 
gle the slightest salam — 

Should fall flat, to adore 
an American Earn ! 

69 



70 RAMS. 

There have always been Rams! 
Father Adam, we know, 

Found some Rams in his gar- 
den, a long time ago; 

In the raising of Rams, 

Abel took much delight; 

And a Ram was concerned 

in the very first fight — 

And the first Ram afloat, 

we may further remark, 

Was the Ram which old No- 
ah took into the Ark ! 

Then, it seems, there were Rams 

which were tied up, in stalls, 

Driven out to do bat- 
tle by butting down walls — 

Alexander, Marcel- 

lus, and Sylla, we find, 

Had a great many Rams 

of this desperate kind, 



RAMS. 

And when Titus encamped 

'mid Jerusalem's palms, 

It is said that the He- 
brews saw nothing but Earns ! 

After these, there came Earns 
not inclining to fights — 

Earns resembling good Josh- 
ua's Gibeonites — 

Which were "drawers of wa- 
ter " — Hydraulical Earns — 

Quite domestic, and com- 
monly found with their Dams ! 

May such Earns still contin- 
ue to thrive and increase, 

With the limitless Eam- 
ifications of peace ! 

Thus, we Eam-ble along, 

through the cycles of Time, 
Finding History's Eam- 

page is rather sublime ! 



RAMS. 

But the Earn of all Earns, 

is the Earn of our day, 

Which is shaking the world 

with a Eam-pant dismay ! 

Iron-harnessed, steam driv- 
en, it sweeps o'er the sea — 

Our American Earn- 
part ! — the shield of the free ! 



THE 



WIDOW'S SON. 



DEDICATED 

TO THS 

Suite!) States 
CHRISTIAN COMMISSION, 



THE WIDOW'S SON. 



The only son of his mother, and she was a widow." 

Luke vii. 12. 



In the green Valley of the Cumberland, 
And where the rugged mountain range divides— 
A lofty portal, walled on either hand, 
Through which the silver Susquehanna glides — 
Half hidden, in the shadow of the wood, 
An unpretending, moss-grown cottage stood. 

An humble place, yet full of calm content; 
The home of two, whose loving hearts were one — 
Old age and youth, in pure affection, blent; 
A widowed mother, and an only son. 
So the green ivy clasps the tottering wall, 
Each holding each, till both, together, fall ! 

77 



78 the widow's son. 

She lived for him — and still, at night and morn, 
Committed him, in secret, to her God ; 
His life was hers — his aim to pluck each thorn 
Which lay before her, in the path they trod : 
His highest hope, her sorrows to beguile ; 
And his supreme reward, his mother's smile. 

Thus, undisturbed, the peaceful days went by, 
And all around gave promise of repose; 
When slowly, in the sunny Southern sky, 
An angry cloud, with gathering blackness, rose — 
The elements, in strange commotion, stirred, 
And muttering thunders in the air were heard. 

It came apace — the storm of civil war — 

And the bright heavens with darkness were o'ercast ; 

From hill to hill, the bale-fires blazed afar, 

And, through the vales, shrieked the shrill bugle 

blast : 
While, from the North, rushed Freedom's loyal sons, 
In prompt response to Sumter's signal guns ! 



the widow's son. 79 

No patriot paused — from every dwelling, then, 

Rose the stern chorus of the battle-cry: 

The dusty highway teemed with armed men, 

Resolved to conquer — and content to die : 

And, with that dauntless host, was numbered one, 

Known, from his childhood, as "The Widow's Son." 

Dark was the day, when sad, but self-possessed, 
He left his mother, at the cottage door : 
In tears, she pressed him to her aching breast ; 
With trembling lips, she blessed him o'er and o'er-. 
Then, sweetly smiling, to disguise her woe, 
Blessed him again — and, calmly, bade him go. 

She gazed upon his form, as through the wood, 
Ne'er looking back, he hurriedly withdrew; 
And lingering, at the open door-way, stood, 
Long after he had vanished from her view : 
And still, with feeble step, she came each day, 
To watch the path by which he passed away. 



80 THE WIDOW'S SON. 

But, even then, she wished not his return ; 
For she had yielded him at Duty's shrine ; 
And, though the summons had seemed almost stern, 
She had not faltered, and did not repine : — 
She deemed him now, still dearer than before, 
And yet, she loved her suffering country more. 

The months wore on — the changing seasons passed, 

And, faithful to his trust, he wearied not; 

But, through the burning heat, and freezing blast, 

Met, with a cheerful zeal, his toilsome lot — 

A patriot soldier, whose heroic heart, 

Of Freedom's mighty bulwark, formed a part. 

'Twas in the Autumn, and the sinking sun 
Tipped the green hill-tops with a golden glow ; 
Where the bright waves of the Antietam run, 
Through blooming banks, to fertile fields below : 
Where Nature has bestowed, with lavish hand, 
Her richest gifts to gladden Maryland. 



THE WIDOW'S SON. 81 

The sky was cloudless, and the air serene : 

The distance faded in the closing light: 

When, from above, to sanctify the scene, 

The saintly stars came beaming through the night : — 

But, in the darkness, on the earth beneath, 

Stalked bloody War, — and, by his side, was Death ! 

For, in that valley, stretching far away, 
Beyond the margin of the crystal flood, 
Rebellion's recreant host, in fierce array, 
Led by the minions of foul Treason, stood : — 
While, to the verge of the opposing bank, 
The Patriot army rested, rank on rank. 

The morning dawned — but scarcely dawned, before 
The din of battle, on the silence broke; 
Hurled, in the blazing cannon's deafening roar, 
Down the dim vale, through clouds of sulphurous 

smoke : — 
Then, swept the Patriot squadrons through the tide, 
And deadly conflict raged, on every side. 



82 the widow's son. 

The naming lines fought sternly — hand to hand : 
The stifling air was rent with shot and shell, 
The rattling musket, and the clashing brand, 
The clanging trumpet, and the piercing yell; 
While frantic steeds rushed, riderless, away, 
And crushed the dead and dying, as they lay. 

Great was the slaughter — o'er the crimson field, 
From heaps of carnage, rose expiring groans: — 
When suddenly, above the combat, pealed 
The trump of Victory, in exultant tones, 
As Treason's banner, with its bloody bars, 
Fell to the dust, before the Stripes and Stars ! 

The strife was ended, and the battle won ; 

The troubled air grew tranquil, as before; 

And, in the effulgence of the setting sun, 

The verdant hills were beautified, once more : — 

But, thousands who had hailed that opening morn, 

Were ghastly, broken, bleeding, and forlorn. 



the widow's son. 83 

'Twas on that night — and, in a shattered wood, 
Torn in the fight, and open to the sky ; 
With mangled frame, and faint from loss of blood, 
A youthful soldier had lain down to die. — 
Though many a friendly form was round him strown, 
He rested there in silence — and alone. 

It was "The Widow's Son;" — with upturned face, 

His eyes were fixed upon the starry dome ; 

But painful consciousness had given place 

To a sweet vision of his happy home : — 

His mother met him at the open door, — 

She clasped him in her loving arms, once more ! 

The fancy fled : — he turned his gaze below, 
And, in the distance, through the shade, descried, 
One, with a flaming torch, pass, to and fro, 
Who drawing near, came quickly to his side; 
And kneeling by him, on the bloody ground, 
Essayed, with care, to stanch each streaming wound. 



84 the widow's son. 

Pie seemed a stranger; — and, in mute surprise, 
The soldier scanned his kindly features o'er : — 
No martial badge adorned his simple guise ; 
No glittering weapon at his side, he wore: — 
But, in the sacred bond of sympathy, 
A brother, and a christian, claimed to be. 

A christian brother — of that noble Band 
Who practice what the blessed Saviour taught : — 
Whose labors are the glory of our land ; 
Whose great commission from high heaven was 

brought, 
When, o'er the silent plains of Bethlehem, rang 
The blissful anthem which the angels sans; ! 

He brought the sufferer from the dreary wood, 
And through the field, amid the prostrate dead, 
Down to the roadside, where a cottage stood, 
And found him, there, a shelter and a bed ; 
Then, smoothed his throbbing brow, and tangled 

hair, 
And watched him, with a father's tender care. 



the widow's son. 85 

But all in vain — for, with the waning night, 

His breath grew shorter, and his strength failed fast, 

'Till, in the early morning's misty light, 

The hour approached which was to be the last ; 

And, with a quivering lip, and tearful eye, 

The faithful stranger told him he must die : — 

Then, drawing still more closely to his side, 
Spoke of the Saviour's love to fallen men; 
Of Him who, sinless, for the sinful died, 
Yet lives, that those who die may live again : — 
And falling on his knees, in earnest prayer, 
He bore him to the Cross, and left him there. 

That prayer prevailed — the soldier raised his eyes, 

And softly whispered, "Lord remember me," — 

When lo! as from the gates of paradise, 

He seemed an angel, in the gloom, to see : — ■ 

A heavenly glory o'er his features spread, 

He breathed his mother's name — and he was dead ! 



86 the widow's son. 

'Twas on that night — the widow sat alone, 
"Within her little cottage in the vale ; — 
Her thin white hair had still more silvery grown, 
Her brow more furrowed, and her cheek more pale ; 
Some strong presentiment had banished sleep, 
And held her thus, a weary watch to keep. 

The hours went on — she noted not their flight; — 
She rose, and slowly tottered to the door ; 
And, in the rising moon's uncertain light, 
Gazed down the path she oft had watched before : — 
She saw a figure — through the wood it pressed, 
And her lost son was folded on her breast ! 

The day appeared — its brightening glory gleamed, 
Down the dark mountain, 'mid the vapory air, 
And through the little cottage window streamed ; 
But all was silent — only Death was there. — 
For, 'ere that morning cast its beams abroad, 
The Widow, with her Son, had gone to God ! 



LAUS DEO. 

A HYMN FOR NATIONAL THANKSGIVING. 

Gloky to God ! We humbly bend 

In grateful adoration ; 
And mingled prayer and praise ascend- 

Thanksgiving from a nation ! 

Glory to God, who brought our sires 

Across the trackless ocean, 
To kindle here the altar fires 

Of national devotion ! 

Glory to God, through whom we rose 
To trample on oppression — 

87 



88 LAUS DEO. 

Who led us, over fallen foes, 
To Freedom's fair possession ! 

Glory to God, for fostering care, 
Parental love transcending; 

For gifts and goodness everywhere, 
Unmerited — unending ! 

Glory to God ! For boundless grace, 
We offer our oblations : 

Oh, be our land His dwelling-place, 
Through endless generations! 



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